


August Star

by Catherine_thegreat



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Use, International Fanworks Day 2021, M/M, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherine_thegreat/pseuds/Catherine_thegreat
Summary: An orc gets captured by elves and taken prisoner. There aren't many works written from an orc's perspective; but this is one of them.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would like to begin by thanking everyone who took the time to read this short work of fiction. Please feel free to leave a comment. Any feedback, negative or positive, is welcome and greatly appreciated. I am looking for a talented artist to pay/commission some illustrations for this work of fanfiction. If you or someone you know may be interested, please message me, thanks.

_____ _

_____ _

Snaga crept quietly in the underbrush. He knew it wasn’t safe to be out here, alone. He looked back at the camp which was slowly fading out of sight. He moved softly further and deeper into the woods. The sound of birds chirping echoed in the trees; the wind rustled the branches and the leaves. Amid all the sounds of nature he listened closely for anything else; making sure that he was indeed alone. 

Although he knew it was dangerous for a little orc to be in the woods by himself, hunger had compelled him to sneak out of the camp and into the forest. Snaga wasn’t brave in the slightest; to the contrary, he had a reputation for being a coward. But hunger makes people do brash things. Snaga was about as ill-fed as he was ill-treated by his master; which was why he was compelled to scrounge in the forest for something, anything, to eat. He crouched down on the forest floor sifting the dirt for anything to eat; acorns, crickets, even earthworms.  


The woods were a source of food when he was hungry, but it was also a place to run and hide if his master was in a particularly violent mood, and it was a good place to relieve himself. Privacy was a rare and difficult thing to come by at the orc camp. Which isn’t to say that orcs don’t urinate in the open (they do); just not Snaga. Snaga didn’t dare let anyone know that he was a eunuch. He knew that if anyone found out, it would make him vulnerable to all sorts of abuses. 

On his hands and knees he scavenged through the undergrowth, brushing aside dead leaves and small plants on the forest floor. Suddenly he noticed something; something bright and shiny half-buried in the ground. He brushed the twigs and dead grass aside. He pulled out of the ground a glittering, silver pendant shaped like a leaf. He wiped the dirt off of it with his fingers. Snaga’s heart dropped: he knew instinctively what it was. It was elvish. The craftsmanship of the beautiful, silver broach spoke unmistakably to its origin. Snaga looked up and around him, terrified that there could be elves hiding behind the trees. He got up quickly and darted out of the woods as fast as he could; praying that he wouldn’t be felled by an arrow before he could reach the clear.

The camp was an orc outpost situated in the ruins of an old Gondorian city. Over the many decades that the orcs had occupied the city, dwelling among the decaying, crumbling infrastructure, orcs had soiled and vandalized it, leaving their mark on the once stately city. The city was built during a peaceful era when men were proud, confident and unafraid. They built great cities in those days. They erected towers, monuments, and palaces with no fear of invasion. The old civic centers hadn’t been planned defensively. This particular city, who’s name was lost to memory, had been one of the first Gondorian settlements to fall since it was not protected by any walls; there was no citadel where the inhabitants could retreat to in the event of an invasion. 

The north of Gondor, in its glory days, was a thriving gem of the nation. But those days were long gone. In the second age the dark Lord, greedy of the proud and prosperous men, had summoned his forces and moved them westward to make war on the Gondorian north.  
That’s how minions like Snaga found themselves thousands of miles deep in ancient Gondorian homeland, conscripted from Mordor to occupy and hold Mordor’s stolen prizes. Their camp was a tenuously held orc-outpost; owing to the fact that it had no defensive walls surrounding it. The orcs weren’t industrious enough (or perhaps too poorly managed) to erect their own wall. But the absence of walls was a blessing for Snaga; it made it easy for him to sneak in-and-out of the camp. He crept back into the camp unnoticed.

_“I should tell someone,” _He thought to himself. But who? His master was the only person that came to mind. Zurgug was a foot taller than him and sizably meatier than him. He had a thick neck, battle-scarred body, and an ugly scowl. Snaga’s small frame made him look minion-like indeed next to his master’s towering stature. Zurgug’s irascible temper was difficult to predict; Snaga was always wary of coming under his master’s ire. He could get kicked or punched for trifling things. He could be whipped for petty offenses. Snaga was afraid to approach his master about this, but elves were lurking in the woods and _someone _had to sound the alarm.____

_____ _

_____ _

He found his master standing around a campfire, drinking with the other captains. He knew it was dangerous to approach Zurgug when drunk, but Snaga couldn't help himself. This was news that couldn’t wait. 

“Heigh, Snaga! What do you want?”

“There are elves out there,” Snaga said bluntly, motioning towards the woods. 

“Elves you say?” Zurgug spat. “Did you see them, Snaga? Or were you frightened by your own shadow again? I don’t have time for you’re fear-mongering, Mouse-sh*t (his other name for Snaga)." He growled, his speech slightly slurred. "If there really are elves skulking around in the woods then why didn’t they eat you?”

Snaga held his tongue; even _he _knew that elves don’t eat orcs. “I found this in the woods. Not far off from our camp,” He held out the pendant.__

____

____

Zurgug took a look for himself. He hissed at the glimmering piece of silver. “So you did. Sneaking off again were you, Snaga? Remind me to whip you next time you take your leave without my permission. But I daresay you won't venture out again, will you? Now that you know that there are elves lurking out there. Go skin and dress the boar for your masters to eat, and be quick about it or I’ll skin _you _.”__

____

____

Snaga walked away to do as he was told; as he walked away he could hear the other officers talking concernedly about Snaga's discovery. 

Snaga did the bloody job of carving the boar as his master had ordered him to do. Every few moments he would pause from his work to take the silver pendant out of his pocket and look at it. 

Snaga inspected the shiny object in his hand. He ran his fingers over the delicate ridges, licking the blood away that he transferred from his dripping hands. He’d never seen anything like it before. The little silver pendant titillated and fascinated him, but it also made his gut sink just by looking at it. It was a grim reminder that there were monsters stalking their camp. He wanted to keep the elvish brooch but he knew that there was no use in pocketing it; word would spread soon enough about what Snaga had found in the forest and someone would shake him down and steal it off his person. He didn’t want to be the target of that sort of harassment; best to give it up. And he knew just whom to go to.

Snaga found Goreshank in his predictable spot, smoking something acrid, something that Snaga wanted too. 

“Aye, Mouse-sh*t,” He flashed Snaga a menacing, crooked-toothed grin with his sharp teeth. “ What brings you to Goreshank? 

“I want to trade with you.”

“Do you now?" He purred. "Prey tell. I’d be surprised if you have anything that I want. Or perhaps you’ve reconsidered my offer to you?”

Snaga ignored the reference. 

“I found something, it’s elvish.”

“And you’ve come to barter with old Goreshank, eh? Perhaps you don’t dislike me so much after all. Tell me, Snaga, when are you going to suck my cock?”

Snaga narrowed his eyes. “Rumor has it, the last time you tried to force someone to suck you, you got bitten.”

“Rumor has it…” Goreshank said, leaping up, enraged. “That the last time a lowly little snaga like _you _talked back to me, he lost an eyeball!”__

____

Goreshank stood tall, looming over Snaga and barring his teeth in Snaga’s face.

“Now show me what you’ve got! See if I deal fairly with you now, now that you’ve displeased me.” 

Snaga held out the silver object in his hand.

“Elvish you say? I would have thought you too stupid to tell apart elvish from man trinkets. I’ll wager you’ve never even seen an elf before. Where did you find this pretty little thing anyways?” 

Goreshank asked while grabbing for it. Snaga instantly closed his fist and snatched it away from Goreshank’s grasp.

“In the woods, how much will you give me for it?” Snaga asked.

“In the woods,” Goreshank muttered to himself, looking in the direction of the trees. “Fucking elves,” He cursed them. “They’re out there, aren’t they? I suspected for some time now that something’s been watching us. Curse them!”

“Will you take it or not?” Snaga demanded to know. 

“You’re an insolent little shit, you know that Snaga? I’ll give you half an ounce for the elvish charm; that’s less than what I would have given you if you hadn’t been so uppity with me.” 

Snaga held out an open palm and Goreshank slapped the weed in his hand while gruffly snatching the elvish brooch out of his other. 

“Now get lost, Snaga. Next time you want something from me, mind your tongue and show me more respect.”

Snaga hurried away, ignoring the lewd comment Goreshank made behind his back. He was sorry to part with the pretty trinket, but this was better. He was still hungry and miserable; but this would help make the misery go away. But before finding a secluded nook to hunker down in and light up, he wanted to find Grishnak. 

Grishnak wasn’t his friend (orcs don't have friends) but he was the closest thing that Snaga had to a friend. They were alike in some ways; they were both called “snaga”. They were both small and oft-abused; par-for-the-course for being part of that lesser breed of orcs. For that reason there was a sense of solidarity between Grishnak and Snaga. Snaga had mixed feelings about Grishnak; he knew for certain that Grishnak had stolen from him once. Nonetheless he was someone that Snaga could talk to; they conversed sometimes, they exchanged thoughts and secrets. Aside from petty theft, Grishnak was someone he trusted well enough; someone with whom Snaga didn’t have to watch his back. Grishnak was sitting by a fire sharpening a crude dagger when Snaga found him. 

“Got something to tell me, Snaga?” Grishnak asked, giving him a side-eyed glance while whetting the blade in his hand. Snaga resented being called “snaga” by Grishnak. It wasn’t fair; they were both slaves. Each was just as lowly as the other. But he ignored the slight.

“There are elves in the woods.” Snaga said flatly.

Grishnak looked up. “What makes you think that?”

“I found something out there; an elvish charm.”

“How do you know it’s elvish? Let me see it.” He replied.

“I don’t have it anymore. I traded it to Goreshank. He says it’s elvish.”

Grishnak grunted. Snaga sat down beside him. “Do you believe me?” He asked.

“I don’t doubt it. I’ve heard the rumors. You’ve heard them too no doubt. They say the enemy has been watching our camp for weeks now.”

Snaga gulped. “I thought we were in men's country. Why would there be elves here?”.

Grisnak scoffed. “You don’t know anything, do you Snaga? Elves and men make alliances all the time. It wouldn’t be the first time that one fought on behalf of the other. That’s why I don’t doubt what you say about elves being in the woods.”

Snaga paused for a moment before asking, “What do elves look like?”

“You’ve never seen one before, have you Snaga?” 

Snaga shook his head no. “Have you?” He asked, turning the question back on Grishnak. 

“Once. We were being routed by elves; everyone fought that day. Even lowly snagas like you and me. Did you know that elvish steel can cut through stone?”

“That can’t be true,”

“That’s what _you _think, Snaga.” Grishnak shot back, establishing himself as the know-better on the subject. “But to answer your question, elves are tall. Taller even than the Uruk Hai. Their skin is pure white.”__

____

____

“White?” Snaga interrupted. White skin, now this was something he couldn’t imagine. 

“They have piercing blue eyes,” Grishnak continued, ignoring the interruption. “And as for their hair, some have brown hair, some have black hair, some have red hair, but most of them have golden yellow hair. Long, yellow hair that reaches down to their backs.” 

Snaga tried to put all of these descriptions together in his head and imagine what these elves looked like. 

“They’re fearsome fighters; elves make for far better soldiers than we do. They say it takes five orcs to take down one elf. Have you ever heard of Gelmir’s revenge, Snaga?”

Snaga shook his head no.

“Elves do it to their captives sometimes. They cut off your arms and legs and leave you to die that way. Sometimes they gouge out your eyes for good measure. If I were you, Snaga, I would stay out of those woods.”

Snaga gulped and nodded in agreement. He envisioned himself lying on the ground, screaming, with his legs and arms hacked off and his eyeballs plucked out of his skull. The mere thought of it made him want to faint. He wondered how long it would take to die like that? How long does a person bleed out in that way? It was too much for Snaga, he couldn’t think about this for any longer. It was late and dawn was coming. 

“I’m going to sleep,” He said, standing up.

But that wasn’t entirely true; first he was going to smoke. Before he could fall asleep he needed to banish the worrisome thoughts out of his mind. He crawled into a cranny amid the ruins of an old building, the safest place he could find where no one was likely to bother him. With his back against a stone wall he rolled the substance and lit it. After a few moments his worrisome thoughts started to fade away and the anxiety and fear he had was lifted. An hour or so later he fell asleep.

That night he dreamed about white-skinned monsters with angry blue eyes and gold hair. In his nightmares he saw gleaming, silver elvish blades. He tossed and turned in his sleep; dreaming that he was being cut down by elves. He could feel cruel, elvish steel hacking away at his limbs and slicing at his skin. The nightmares stayed with him all through the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lug-Gülguh: Skull Tower or skull fortress
> 
> Lugburz: Barad-dûr ("Dark Fortress") was the Dark Lord Sauron's primary stronghold in Mordor, serving as his base of operations in Middle-earth during the Second and Third Ages.

For the next few days Snaga was plagued with worries. The anxiety gave him a wretched feeling in his gut that wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t get the swirling, anxious thoughts out of his head; he thought constantly about how elves were watching their camp from the trees, stalking them. It gave him an unsettling and horrible creep up his spine.  


He smoked whenever he could to find relief from the constant state of fear that he lived in. It was a cruel day when he ran out of the supply that he’d bartered from Gorshank. When it was all used up and gone it was enough to make him fall into a despair.  


Snaga didn’t dare go into the woods anymore, and that made life much harder for him. He was hungry, as usual, but this time there was nothing he could do about it. And there was nowhere to run and hide if his master was in a rage; he would just have to take the abuse. Which is exactly what he was worried about as he trudged up to the second floor of a crumbling stair-well, carrying a bucket of water. Before he even reached the top of the staircase he could hear angry, arguing voices above. He shuddered, not wishing to get caught up in the middle of it all, but having no choice.  


An emissary had been sent from the orc-held fortress at Lug-Gülguh. Not the first one either; a week ago a messenger was sent to their camp. Whatever the message was, it hadn’t been well received; his dead body had been unceremoniously dumped into a ditch. Snaga had heard the quarrel from afar; but he didn’t dare go near to eavesdrop. Snaga knew better than that; always best to stay clear of Zurgug’s capricious violence. Snaga didn’t know what message or orders were coming down from Lug-Gülguh; but this time instead of sending a lowly messenger, the lieutenant of Lug-Gülgah had come down to their camp himself, escorted by armed soldiers. Snaga crept quietly into the room to find the emissary and Zurgug in a heated quarrel.  


“Fuck you, you messenger scum! If you think I’ll let you take three hundred of our best soldiers out from under us you’ve lost your fucking mind.”  


“Orders, you swine! It’s not a message, it’s an order, straight from the tower! And you know well enough what happens to a captain who disobeys orders from Lugburz.”  


“I know well enough what will happen to us if I _don’t _disobey your order.” He retorted. “Just the other day my slave found elves in the woods. It’s not just men we’ve got to look out for, there’s elves too now! They’re watching us, probably lying in wait. We can’t hold our own if you gut us of every able soldier that we have!”  
_ _

__“Oh you’ll be gutted alright, in the flesh, if you don’t comply. Lug-Gülguh has been ravished by the plague; there're not more than a hundred soldiers there. It’ll fall to the men and elves if it’s not re-stocked immediately; and you know our dark lord won’t stand for that. If you think your petty little rag-tag camp is more important than that great old fortress, then you’re mad.”  
_ _

__“Listen here Luzbag: get your fucking troops elsewhere, because we don’t have any to spare. Why don’t you go south and recruit there instead?”_ _

__“My orders don’t demand that I go south,” Luzbag seethed. “My orders say that _you _are to provide us with reinforcement for the garrison. Which makes sense well enough, since you’re the closest source for foot-soldiers. You disobey these orders at your own expense, Zurgug. I’ll gladly put your head on a spike myself when it comes to that.”__ __

__

__

____Suddenly Zurgug noticed Snaga standing in the corner. “Get out of here, you filthy little snaga!” He screamed while throwing an axe at his head._ _ _ _

____Snaga yelped and darted just in time before it hit him squarely in the forehead. He dropped the bucket which splashed to the ground. Snaga darted down the stairwell; he could hear his master screaming curses at him as if it was _his _fault that there were elves in the woods. His first thought was to find Grishnak and tell him everything he’d heard._ _ _ _ __

____The next day there was great commotion as soldiers were being fitted with armor and assembled to march out of the camp. Snaga and Grishnak had been put to work all day gathering weapons and armor for the foot-soldiers. They stood beside each other now, watching the spectacle from the sidelines as troops were marched out of the camp.  
____

___“You know what this means, don’t you, Snaga?” Snaga turned to look at Grishnak without answering him.  
_ _ _

___“It means we’re easy prey. There’s far too few of us now, we can’t hold our own with these numbers.”  
_ _ _

___Snaga didn’t answer; he watched concernedly as the soldiers were dressed and marched.  
_ _ _

___“How many did Zurgug say he’s sending to Lug-Gülguh?” Grishnak asked.  
_ _ _

___“Two hundred. Lugbag demanded three hundred but he wouldn’t give up any more than two.”  
_ _ _

___Grishnak snorted. “What difference will it make? We’re as good as dead now.”  
_ _ _

___“Do you really think…”  
_ _ _

___“You said it yourself, Snaga.” Grishnak interrupted. “There are elves in those woods. Elves and men I'll wager. They’ve been watching us for weeks. If I were to guess; I’d say they’ve been waiting for the right time to strike.”  
_ _ _

___“What will we do if we’re attacked?” He asked.  
_ _ _

___“Run, if you can. Though they’ll hunt you down more than likely. Or fight. Not that it will do _you _much good.”  
_ _ _ __

____“You told me that you fought once,” Snaga said.  
_ _

__Grishnak snorted, “I’m no more of a soldier than you, Snaga. If they attack, I’ll be running, same as you. But best to keep that knife by your side anyways; you may need it soon.”  
_ _

___Snaga looked down at where his small dagger sat sheathed on his hip.  
_ _ _

___" _I’m not a soldier _,” _He thought to himself. He had never killed anyone before. He had only ever stabbed someone once; and that was when he was alone and he had been pounced. Snaga knew that if the enemy attacked, there was nothing he could do.___ _ _ _


	3. Chapter 3

It was early in the morning and Snaga was tired; he wanted to go to sleep. The sun was just barely coming up over the horizon; good, comforting night’s darkness was slowly fading. The world took on a hazy blue. Orcs dread this time of day; orcs are nocturnal by nature and they are averse to the sunlight. Most of the camp goes to sleep in the pre-dawn hours, crawling away to sleep in dark corners and nooks to escape the coming sun.  


Snaga was just about to make his way to his own dark alcove when Urzug stopped him.  


“Where do you think you’re going, Snaga?”  


“To rest,” He stammered.  


“Not yet you aren’t. Keep digging, you lazy rat. You’re not finished until I dismiss you.”  


“It’s morning, “ Snaga murmured.  


“Shall I whip you, Snaga? Your master is too soft on you. Do as I told you, you can sleep when you’re finished.”  


Snaga lowered his head and obeyed. He didn’t want any trouble. Urzug was the over-seer of the orc camp’s latest effort to guard against an attack. There was no time to build a wall; instead a hastily erected fence was being built around the orc camp, a motley collection of wood stakes being laced with wire, wire knotted with shrapnel and other treacherous materials. The way Snaga saw it, all of this was too little too late. As he got to work and as the minutes passed by the world became slowly brighter and brighter. Each passing minute made him feel more uncomfortable.  


An eastward wind wafted the scent of a rotting corpse into his nose. He gazed upward where it hung high in the air on a tall gibbet; swaying slowly. A week ago an orc had tried deserting. He was easily caught. Now he hung as a warning for anyone else entertaining thoughts about desertion. Snaga wondered to himself why anyone would bother to run, since the woods were filled with elves and men. He wished they would take the corpse down; but keeping order was more important now than ever. The rotting body would stay there for a long time.  


Snaga’s thoughts drifted back to his own misery. He was tired and hungry; he hadn’t slept in a long time. No matter what, it seemed to Snaga that he was always underfed and under-slept. He could still feel the stripes on his back from the last time he had been beate-  


Urzug screamed a gurgled screech and in the same instant Snaga heard the “thud” sound of an arrow as Urzug had been shot through the neck. Urzug fell to the ground clutching the arrow’s shaft. Snaga barely had time to think before an arrow whizzed passed his own head. He fell to the ground instinctively. Within the chaos of the split-second moment one clear thought formed in his mind: _they’re here _.  
__

He turned around to see armed figures emerging out of the trees. Tall, fair soldiers came striding forward. Snaga gasped in horror. It was the monsters from his dreams. The foremost one raised his arm to grab an arrow; he nocked his bow and emotionlessly pulled back to aim for his next kill. Snaga shrieked and darted to the side just as an arrow hit the ground next to him. He quickly got up to run, half tripping over himself as he fled.  


The enemy descended in droves onto the orc camp and soon the camp was awash in a frenzy of men and elvish soldiers slaughtering the orcs who were caught by surprise. All around him Snaga’s comrades were being cut down; amid the chaos he ran for his life. Snaga dove behind the crevice of a crumbling wall. He crouched there in the corner, hand over his mouth trying to keep himself quiet. Amid the killing and the screaming and the ground running with blood, Snaga was whipped into a state of terror. He could barely keep himself sane. An elf or an orc would rush by but he remained unnoticed.  


In short time the screams of the orcs became fewer and fewer and the camp became thicker and thicker with elves and men-soldiers who rushed by where Snaga crouched.  
Snaga realized with horror that soon they would be completely defeated and the camp would be held by elves and men. They would surely leave no-one alive; the time to run was now or never.  


_“I have to get out of here _,” He thought to himself. Fleeing into the woods was his only option. When he mustered the courage he sat up and looked around the corner, then ran to the next nearest hiding spot.  
__

He dodged behind the edifice of a crumbling wall; heart pounding, wondering if anyone had seen him. The closest escape was to dart through a nearby alley. After taking a moment to breathe several shallow, panicky breaths, he staggered to his feet, he stumbled around the corner and looked behind himself.  


His heart stopped, to his horror an elf soldier only a few yards away was cutting down an orc. With his enemy struck to the ground the elf raised his sword and slashed through the orc’s skull; blood splattered everywhere. While Snaga was still standing there, frozen in fear, the elf looked up and spotted him.  


The elf warrior was fair, tall, brunette. He had murder in his eyes. The elf stepped over the body of the orc that he had just killed and walked coolly to where Snaga stood. Snaga snapped to his senses; he turned on his heels and ran.  


Snaga could hear pounding footsteps behind him but he didn’t dare look back. He sprinted down the alley as fast as he could, running for his life. After a short distance he thought he stopped hearing footsteps behind him and he turned around to see that the elf was gone.  


Confused, he kept running, and just as he was about to round the corner the elf, in a flash, stepped out blocking his way. Snaga was about to scream when the elf soldier swung his sword and, instead of slashing him straight through, bashed him on the side of his face with the broadside of his sword.  


The pain was nothing short of stunning. He fell to the ground _hard _, he could feel blood running down his cheek. He was dazed and his vision was spinning; he stumbled to his feet and tried to run...only to be tackled back down to the ground. He felt his hands get pinned behind his back as he wrestled against an elf who was twice his height and three times his weight.  
__

“Don’t fucking move, filth!” The elf hissed. Snaga felt one of his wrists get released and his own dagger was pulled from his hip and held against his throat.  
“Keep your hands behind your back, you hear me?”  


Snaga didn’t respond, he just whimpered in terror. He felt his other wrist was released but he didn’t dare remove it from behind his back. _“I’m going to die.” _He thought to himself.  
__

Snaga heard the “clink” of a belt buckle and he felt his hands being bound firmly behind him. He felt the elf soldier get off of him and yank him to his feet by his hair.  
“Walk, orc!” He felt the sharp end of his own dagger prod him harshly on his back.  


Snaga was confused; this wasn’t the quick and brutal death that he was expecting. Bewildered, he wondered why he was being taken alive...suddenly he remembered what Grishnak had told him about Gelmir’s revenge.  


In a snap Snaga became hysteric; he fell to his knees and struggled against the hand gripping his hair; refusing to walk any further, and screaming hysterically. The elf soldier hoisted him up and pushed him against a wall. The elf back-handed Snaga as hard as he could. The first slap was hard enough to make Snaga shut up; his head went dizzy and he felt like he was about to fall over when he felt a second slap to the other side of his face.  


Snaga dry heaved; he felt he was about to start sobbing.  


“Keep walking.” The elf shouted, and continued to march his prisoner forward.  


As Snaga was marched, he observed with dizzy, spinning vision that the ground ran with blackish-red blood, littered with severed orc heads and hands. Half smashed faces looked up at Snaga with dead eyes. It was enough to make him sick; he wanted to wretch.  


Snaga was marched to a gathering crowd of men and elvish soldiers. In a circle of them knelt, on one knee, an elf; he was dressed like a captain. He was stooping down to where another bound orc prisoner sat on his knees...it was Grishnak.  


“Yesterday a company of your warriors left this camp. Where are they going?” The captain asked.  


Grishnak spat in the Captain’s face and cursed him in orcish language. The elf captain wiped the spit off his cheek with disgust and promptly slashed Grishnak’s throat clean open. Snaga almost fainted. Blood squirted out of Grishnak’s neck and he gurgled before falling to the ground.  


The tall, stately elf stood to his feet. “We don’t have time for an interrogation.” The captain said.  


“We need to move; we’ll take this one.” He pointed to Snaga.  


“Blindfold him and let’s go.”  


The soldier who was holding him responded something affirmative in elvish to his captain. While Snaga was still gawking at Grishnak’s convulsing body, a piece of cloth was tied over his eyes and his vision went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For one thing Morgoth had achieved was to convince the Orcs beyond refutation that the Elves were crueller than themselves, taking captives only for 'amusement', or to eat them (as the Orcs would do at need)._  
>  -Morgoth's Ring, Volume X of "A History Of Middle Earth" By J.R.R. Tolkien __

Snaga couldn’t see anything, which was probably for the best because he could feel the blistering sun. They marched for hours; Snaga couldn’t guess quite how long but he felt it was all day. It was a hot Indian-summer day; Snaga sweated and stumbled the entire march. The darkness provided by the blindfold was his only comfort, protecting him from the garish, cruel light of the sun. He was horribly thirsty; he wanted water but he didn’t bother to beg for it (and no one gave him any). 

__

__

When they finally took the blindfold off he was in a dark, stone room lit by a fire. He instinctively backed himself into a corner. There were three elves: the soldier that captured him, the elvish Captain, and a third elf that Snaga didn’t recognize, plus a Gondorian man who appeared to be a captain as well. Snaga took quick inventory of the room; there wasn’t much. There was a fire in the hearth, a chair, and workbench. Snaga was expecting to see more by the way of torture devices.

The blonde and tall elf-Captain loomed over him where he stood cowering in the corner.

“Do you have any weapons on you?” He asked; his voice was deep and intimidating.

“No,” Snaga replied, his voice shaking. His dagger was the only weapon he carried, and that had already been taken from him when he was captured.

“Strip.” The Captain commanded. Snaga’s gut sank; he couldn’t obey this.

“Strip now.” The elf captain became impatient and he struck him across the face. Snaga trembled as he took off his cowl and dropped it to the ground. He knelt to take off his sandals but not his bandage-leggings that came up to his knees. Snaga hesitated before pulling his tunic over his head. Instead of dropping it to the ground he held it protectively over his hips. The elf captain roughly snatched it away and tossed it to the side.

There was a moment of silence and confusion when they saw that there was nothing between the orc’s legs. Snaga looked down and crossed his arms over himself, refusing to meet their confused stares.

“What are you?” The captain’s voice was low and grave.

Snaga looked up, making a confused whimper.

“Are you a girl, orc?”

Snaga shook his head no. “I’m not a girl.” He said in a small, shaking voice.

The elf who had captured him spoke up:

“It’s just a eunuch,” The elf sneered disdainfully.

Snaga didn’t know it, but there was a sense of relief in the room that they hadn’t captured a girl. Elves can’t torture a girl...not even an orc one. The captain turned to the elf soldier who had captured Snaga.

“Elaenar,” he addressed the soldier and motioned to his subordinate. On command the elf, called Elaenar, stepped forward and together they grabbed the orc by both arms and dragged him to the chair. They tied his hands behind his back and bound his ankles to the legs of the chair.

Snaga was naked, starving, exhausted and afraid. He hadn’t eaten or slept in hours. He’d never seen an elf before, his race's mortal enemy, and now he sat in the presence of three of them as their prisoner. He wondered if they really were going to cut off his feet and hands (and eyes) afterall. The elf captain stood squarely in front of him, tall and imposing.  


“Yesterday a company of your soldiers marched out of your camp; which way are they going?”

Snaga quaked before answering. “They’re going to Lug-Gülguh,” Snaga’s voice cracked when he spoke.

The Gondorian captain spoke up:

“What is Lug-Gülguh?”

“Barad Mendolin.” The one called Elaenar said; there was subtle hostility in his voice. “The orcs call it Lug-Gülguh.”

The elf captain looked skeptical. “What do you mean they’re traveling to Lug-Gülguh?” He asked the prisoner.

“They’re traveling north along the river. They were ordered there to reinforce the garrison.” Snaga’s voice was hoarse; he barely had the courage to get the words out and answer his captor.

The elf who captured him, snorted. “That’s ridiculous, Barad Mendolin is a heavily fortified stronghold.” He said, speaking directly to his captain. ”They have plenty of soldiers stationed there already. Why would they shift soldiers to Barad Mendolin?”

“He’s lying,” The third elf chided, while holding a short sword in the flames of the fire that was smouldering in the hearth.

“What do your spies say of it?” The Gondorian captain asked the elves.

“Our spies don’t say that Barad Mendolin is in need of _two hundred _more soldiers.” Elaenar answered with an edge of snark in his voice.__

____

__

“Are you lying to me, orc?” The captain asked.

Snaga shook his head no. “I’m not lying.” He pleaded.

The Gondorian captain spoke: “Captain Thrandar, if we’re to intercept and ambush the orc company, whichever way they went, we will need to attack quickly while they’re still on the march and exposed. We need to strike before it’s too late.”

“We’re time-bound, orc.” The elf-captain knelt to Snaga’s level.

“You’re going to tell us the truth, and you’ll do it quickly. Now tell me, which way did they go?”

Snaga gulped. “They went to Lug-Gülguh, I swear it.”

The elf captain turned to the third elf who was still holding his blade into the fire.

“Lúthian,” He commanded.

The elf nodded. He brought the glowing hot blade out of the fire. Snaga squirmed in the chair and whined.

“One more time, orc.” The captain said in a low voice. “Which way did they go?”

Snaga gulped back a sob. “Please, I’m not lying to yo-”

Snaga screamed as the hot blade was pressed into the skin on his shoulder.

“Why would they send more soldiers to an already heavily manned fortress?” The captain asked. His voice was raised this time; he was shouting at Snaga. Snaga was hunched over, head bent, shaking and crying.

“Speak!” the captain commanded.

“There was an outbreak,” Snaga whimpered. “A plague; it wiped out the garrison. They have less than a hundred soldiers at Barad Mendolin. The soldiers from our camp were ordered there to reinforce it.”

The elves turned to each other and murmured something in their own language. They exchanged a few words with the Gondorian captain in the common tongue. But Snaga wasn’t paying any attention to what they were saying; he sat hunched over and quivering, taking short and shallow breaths, trying to grit through the pain of his burnt and hurting skin on his shoulder. Suddenly a hand gripped his hair from behind and his head was yanked backwards. The one elf, Elaenar, placed a knife to his throat.

“Is this a trap orc?” the elf asked. “Are we going to be ambushed?”

“It’s not a trap, I swear it.” He sniveled.

The Gondorian captain spoke up. “Captain Thrandar, if we strike now we can catch them before they reach the fortress.”

“I’m not convinced yet,” The elf captain said. Then, turning to the orc he asked, “What makes you so sure the orc army went that way? How do you know this?”

Snaga choked back a sob and spoke, “I heard it with my own ears. I was there when my master, our captain of our camp, was delivered with the orders to send soldiers to Lug-Gülguh. I heard it myself, I swear.”

“Is that so?” The elf captain purred menacingly.

“Let’s put your word to the test and see if your story changes.” The captain burned him again, this time on the other shoulder. Snaga screamed and struggled in the chair; nearly tipping himself over.

“Do you still swear it?” The captain asked?

“Yes! Yes, I swear it!” Snaga screamed.

“I don’t have patience for this,” The Gondorian captain spoke up. “I will gather my men for an assault with or without you. You may not believe what you’ve been told but _I _am well enough convinced, and I will _not _miss this opportunity to strike on the orc army before it’s too late.”____

__

__

____

____

“Fine then; you won’t need to go alone. My elves will go with you. I trust your judgement.” The elf captain replied. He turned his attention toward the trembling prisoner:  
“Now listen closely, tomorrow our soldiers will march out to meet the orcs exactly where you say they are. If we don’t find the orc party there, and we discover that you lied to us…” He raised the scorching sword blade and hovered it just over Snaga’s cheek. Snaga whimpered and flinched. He could feel the heat from the blade against his face.  
“...it will be a terrible day for you. Elves can torture their prisoners too, orc. Don’t you dare suppose that we won't punish you horribly if you’ve lied to us. If you’ve deceived us in any way, confess it now.”

Snaga didn’t say anything but he shook his head “no”.

“Very well then.” the captain lowered the scorching blade to Snaga’s relief. He turned to his subordinate: “Lock this prisoner in a cell. If he hasn’t told us the truth then we’ll make good on our promise. The elf who captured him nodded and undid the restraints binding Snaga to the chair. Snaga was allowed to dress before being roughly escorted down the hall. He was shoved into a small, empty room. He stumbled unto the stone floor and heard the sound of the door slam and lock behind him.

Snaga crawled into the farthest corner and clutched himself, crying and shaking. The burns on his shoulders hurt horribly. The side of his face ached from where he had been struck with a sword...not to mention the multiple times he had been back-handed. The last twelve hours had been a nightmare, and this wasn’t the end of it. For all he knew, this wasn’t even the worst of it. He lay down carefully on the stone floor, mindful of his many bruises, and cried himself to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Elaenar needed a drink. Doing the dirty work was draining. He made his way as in-conspicuously as possible to the cellar where they kept the ale...and harder liquor. Elves aren’t supposed to indulge in heavy drinking, but bored and anxious soldiers do all sorts of things that they aren’t supposed to do under the stress of military life.  


He reflected on the day's events. Guerilla warfare wasn’t usually elvish custom, it wasn’t considered honorable fighting, but damn it could be so much easier than engaging the enemy on an open battlefield. Elaenar mused that today’s assault may have been the most one-sided attack he had ever fought in. Not a single man (or elf) had been lost on their side.  


He liberally poured himself something strong to drink and sat down; he needed something to help him stop dwelling on what he and his comrades had just done for the last hour. It didn’t sit well with him, which isn’t to say that he felt guilty about it. But it was ugly business.  


Elaenar tried to put aside the image he had in his mind of the ugly little creature strapped to the chair. The orc had dark skin; skin with blue and green undertones. He was short, thin, and haggardly. His receding hair left him mostly bald in the front and only grew thick at the very back of his head. During the interrogation Elaenar was overcome with a sense of disgust as snot had dribbled down the orc’s small nose and blood trickled down his chin. The foul creature stank. When the orc was being tortured, and he winced and grit his teeth, he displayed a mouth full of filthy teeth covered in dark plaque. But the worst thing about the orc was his eyes. His eyes, too big for his skull (and framed by dark circles and heavy bags) were a sickly yellow, bloodshot, and he had large black pupils. Those badly jaundiced eyes were revolting to look at.  


Elaenar felt a sense of cold-hearted contempt at the fact that the orc was a eunuch. But the paradox of his sentiment was that Elaenar probably would have felt even more disgusted if the orc hadn’t been a eunuch. The only thing more foul than an orc is an orc’s genitals.  


The liquor started to marinate Elaenar’s senses and his musings turned to more optimistic thoughts. It was a very fortunate discovery they’d made during their interrogation. A plague; it was almost too good to be true. But Elaenar didn’t find it hard to believe; with filthy, unclean orcs he was surprised that they didn't succumb to diseases more often. This army of men and elves had had their sights on Barad Mendolin for a long time now; it was a strategic point in their campaign to take back the Gondorian north. Before today occupying Barad Mendolin was something they could only dream about. Now it seemed it was more than a possibility.  


Elaenar had been fighting in the volunteer forces for many years now, most of his adult life, come to think of it. His life had been a pattern of a year’s service followed by several months leave to go home. Sometimes he went home, sometimes he chose to stay beyond how long he was actually obligated to serve.  


It wasn’t his land or his people Elaenar was defending, but elves and men have a common enemy and Gondor has always been at the vanguard of Mordor’s forces. Because Gondor is the barricade between the free peoples of the world and their enemy, the rest of the world has a duty towards Gondor to help. At least that was certainly how _they _saw it.  
__

____

____

It was a point that elves could begrudgingly concede. Elaenar, no less, understood this: that from time immemorial the alliances between elves and men was the key to the relative liberty and security that the free nations enjoyed. The mere appearance of cooperation between the free peoples kept Mordor’s forces at bay, always hesitant to strike against an enemy that could call upon the aid of friendly nations. A generation that failed to know the importance of alliances was doomed to usher in a dark era.  


And that’s exactly what had happened during the second age. Elaenar judged that it had been a mistake to neglect their ally, the Gondorian people. Elvish nations had stood back and left the northern men to hold their own against assaults from the east. Massive territories in Gondor had fallen and been lost to the orc hordes. Wiser people understood that this wasn’t just a defeat for the men of Gondor, this was a defeat for the world. It was the beginning of Sauron's larger strategy of gradual encroachment.  


That’s why people like Elaenar chose to fight in a war that wasn’t technically their own. Elaenar supposed that, to the men of Gondor it may seem that an unmarried, childless elf like himself (with an immortal life, no less) had nothing better to do than fight in foreign wars where mutual interests lie.  


Although the elves and men soldiers tried to be civil with each other there was obvious resentment...on both sides. The elvish soldier’s resented their Gondorian comrades because it wasn’t their homeland they were fighting for and they didn’t feel that their aid was sufficiently appreciated. The men, in turn, resented the elves because they felt it was only fair that the great nations send troops to help Gondor, since Gondor was the barrier between Mordor and everyone else. But even worse, they resented the low esteem in which the elvish soldiers held them in. Elves saw themselves as superior to the mortal folks; they considered themselves to be a higher and nobler race than their Gondorian allies. More than a few times Elaenar had seen insulted egos erupt into conflict; sometimes what began as an exchange of snide words could bubble over into an exchange of fists. The men and elves were far from perfect allies.  


Elaenar was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming into the cellar.  


“Aren’t you supposed to celebrate _after _the victory?” Luthian asked. It was obvious that he was being critical of Elaenar’s drinking.  
__

__“And what did _you _come down here for, Luthian? Water?”  
_ _ __

__

__

__“No,” Luthian said, ignoring his friend’s snarky attitude. “I came looking for you. But I suppose I’ll join you for a drink as long as I’m here.” He poured himself a half mug of ale and sat across from his comrade. Elaenar inwardly rolled his eyes at his friend’s obvious display of moderation. A real friend would just get drunk with him.  
_ _

__“Do you think it’s all true? Luthian asked.  
_ _

__“Yes.” Eleanar said confidently. “Yes I do. Wouldn’t it be nice if things went well for us? For once?”  
_ _

__“It would be nice.” Luthian agreed. “But since when are we ever that fortunate? I’ll keep my hopes down and expectations low for now.”  
_ _

__“Oh please,” Elaenar said. “Don’t you think that we did well enough for ourselves as torturers today?”  
_ _

__“Don’t talk like that.” Luthian scolded him. Elaenar held back a snide retort. Nothing about what he said was untrue.  
_ _

__Luthian paused before saying “We haven’t had a strategic victory against the enemy in a long time.”  
_ _

__“Years.” Elaenar corrected him.  
_ _

__“Years.” Luthian nodded, agreeing. “Sometimes it feels as though we never make any progress. Year after year we fight and yet our progress remains stagnant. Nothing ever changes.”  
_ _

__“And the Gondorians wonder why we resent this.” Elaener chimed. Luthian nodded.  
_ _

__“This could be the break that we’ve been waiting for.” Elaener said; there was hope and excitement in his voice. He leaned in closer to Luthian who sat across from him. “If we can take Barad Mendolin we’ll have a much stronger presence in the north. I’m willing to bet that other victories will follow.”  
_ _

__“ _If _we can take Barad Mendolin.” Luthian reminded him. There was no guarantee of anything yet. Elaenar was disappointed that his comrade wasn’t sharing in his excitement, instead choosing to play the role of the hesitant skeptic.  
_ _ __

__

__

__“If tomorrow we find the orc army on the road then I suppose we’ll know that it’s all true...and I suppose an orc’s word really can be trusted.”  
__

___Elaenar snorted. “Anyone’s word can be trusted under pain of torture.”  
_ _ _

___Luthian flinched at the word “torture”. “We’ll only know tomorrow.” He said while getting up.  
_ _ _

___“You should go to bed my friend. We leave early in the pre-dawn hours.” It was already near midnight.  
_ _ _

___“Soon,” Elaenar replied. He would follow Luthian after he finished his drink. Despite feeling tired (and somewhat irritable) Elaenar was feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time._ _ _


	6. Chapter 6

It was just as they had been told. The orc army was caught by surprise and slaughtered on the road. A battalion of men and elves ambushed them from the trees along an ancient, overgrown Gondorian highway. Another quick and easy victory. Again they struck at dawn, using the sun as a weapon to disorient and blind the orcs. 

The first thought on his mind when they returned was food and rest. But then he remembered…

Elaenar asked his captain what was to be done with the prisoner.

“Nothing” 

Nothing. His captain had literally said to do “nothing”. What kind of an order was that? It was a curtly given reply but everyone was exhausted and irritable and Elaenar could forgive his captain for not wishing to be bothered with the matter. It didn’t help that Elaenar had addressed the subject while Thrandar was trying to converse with the Gondorian captain Barothir. 

Elaenar’s gut sank when he realized that they hadn’t given their captive food or water the entire time since he’d been taken. That was almost too cruel even for an orc prisoner. If there were such a thing as rules of war, this certainly would have been a breach of them. 

To his credit Elaenar took it upon himself to bring water and bread to their prisoner. He said nothing and barely glanced at the cowering orc as he did so.

It was only the afternoon but Elaenar was tired and he wanted to go to sleep. The last 48 hours had been exhausting. They had launched 2 attacks within 2 days and they had traveled many miles to do so. He promptly put himself to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. He slept long and hard, someone tried to wake him up for dinner but he murmured, half-asleep, to just let him be.  
In the morning Aeründal woke him up gently. Elaenar groaned when a hand shook him on his shoulder, pulling him out of his twelve hour sleep. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed his eyes. 

“Slept enough?” Aeründal asked. 

“Mhh, now I have.” He answered, his voice hoarse with morning-voice. 

“I’m almost sorry I had to wake you. It’s a rare thing to see you this happy and peaceful.”  


Elaenar chuckled, lazily covering his eyes with his forearm and tucking the other behind his head. Elaenar knew that he had a reputation for being bad tempered. On his worst days he could be caustic and rude. Aeründal was the opposite. He was good-natured and gracious towards everyone. He even treated their Gondorian comrades with the same friendliness and respect that he showed his fellow elves.  
Despite being so different from himself, Aeründal saw the best in Elaenar. Aeründal saw the best in everyone, truthfully. Aeründal recognized the good traits in his sometimes disagreeable friend. He knew that, despite his flaws, Elaenar was a loyal friend and he could be fiercely defensive on behalf of others when the occasion demanded it. And despite his outward gruffness Elaenar could be compassionate and caring. 

But if there was one thing that neither Aeründal nor anyone else could deny, it was that Elaenar was competent. Like him or not, Elaenar was a gifted soldier, which was probably why he occupied an unofficial position close to his captain’s side. Elaenar probably could have been a captain himself, if it weren’t for his disagreeable personality. He didn’t possess the necessary leadership qualities.

Aeründal was a talented soldier in his own right; so much so that he was promoted as a spy; and spying was difficult and dangerous work, reserved only for the very best. There was always great peril to be captured or killed. It was a task fit for elves, they never recruited their Gondorian comrades who were too clumsy, too loud, and all-around inferior soldiers (and, in the opinion of some elves, an inferior race altogether). 

“What is it then, did I sleep too long?” Elaenar asked. “Did Captain Thrandar send you to make sure that I’m still alive?”

“Not quite.” Luthian answered. “We’re being summoned, all of us, for an announcement. Captain Thrandar and Captain Barothir were awake discussing matters for hours last night. It seems they have something important to tell us…”

Elaenar murmured in agreement, eyes still closed. 

“Elaenar, are the rumors true?” Aeründal asked.

“What rumors?” Elaenar responded, opening his eyes and turning to look at his friend.

“You would know better than I, wouldn’t you?” He asked.

“You mean about Barad Mendolin?”

“I’ve been saying for weeks now that there’s something wrong at Barad Mendolin. No one would listen to us; though Feanar and I have been watching the fortress for months. What do you say about it?”

“I say that this is the turning point that we’ve been waiting for.” Elaenar said while sitting up.  
“But I’ll say no more about it for now. Thrandar asked me not to discuss it. Let’s see what today’s assembly has in store, shall we?” He said while sitting erect.

Aeründal stood up and lent his friend a hand to pull him up out of bed. Together they went to the main court where the entire company of elves and men were being assembled. The elves congregated amongst themselves on one side and the men on the other, (this army would always be reluctant to be fully integrated).

The Gondorian captain stood a head above the crowd on a short platform, captain Thrandar stood behind him. He addressed the soldiers, elves and men alike, and told them what Elaenar already knew: that enemy secrets had already been divulged concerning the diversion of orc soldiers to Barad Mendolin, that the great fortress was weakly held by a small force of orcs, all that was left of the garrison. The orcs at Barad Mendolin weren’t half as large in numbers as their own, and plans were being made for a great offensive to take the stronghold back for Gondor. 

It was a great boon for morale among the men who had too long suffered their country to be ravished by the enemy. It was exciting for the elves too who were just as eager for a decisive victory.  


When captain Barothir finished delivering his message to his men (and Thrandar’s elves) there were great celebratory cries and cheers among the men. The elves didn’t celebrate quite as loudly but they murmured excitedly amongst each other.

Aeründal turned to Elaenar with an amused and hopeful look on his face.

“A turning point you say, hmm?” Aeründal said.

Elaenar smiled back at his friend; he was feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

The stone floor was a cruel bed. Snaga’s body hurt from lying and sitting on the hard floor; he was constantly shifting and changing positions, trying to find a way to lay down that was comfortable. Being alone with his thoughts was miserable. Thank god he had at least been fed. The bread was a strange elvish food, he hated it but he was starving so he ate it anyway. But more importantly he was finally given water. He drank all of it; he could at least be thankful that his tormentors were merciful enough to give him plenty of water. 

He had nothing to do all day but worry and wonder about what his captors would do to him next. He had given them everything they wanted, he told them everything he knew. Would they still torture him? Do elves make cruel sport out of their prisoners too? Snaga knew exactly how orcs would deal with a prisoner who was of no more use, but as for elves he couldn’t be sure. There was still a lingering possibility in his mind that he would die by method of “Gelmir’s revenge”. 

Truthfully, Snaga was merely hoping to be disposed of quickly and not too painfully. He hoped they would slash his throat, same as they had done to Grishnak. As far as he was concerned, that was the best way to go. Snaga had seen enough botched beheadings and protracted hangings to make him believe that a knife to one’s throat is as merciful a death as can be had. 

As Snaga sifted on the floor, each miserable hour dragging by slowly, he lost track of time. He thought it may have been late evening or night when his door was opened and the elf and man captain stepped in his cell. 

The elf spoke first; “You said the garrison at Barad Mendolin is greatly reduced, did you not?” The Captain asked. That deep and manly voice was enough to strike fear in Snaga and send shivers down his spine.

“Yes,” He answered, barely above a whisper.

“And that they’ve been ravished by disease, many of them dying off, is that correct?”

“Yes,” He uttered again in a barely audible voice. 

“How many did you say remain? How many are at Barad Mendolin now?” 

Snaga gulped before answering. “Less than a hundred.” 

“Are you certain of this?”

“I’m certain.” He said, trying his best to give a confident answer despite his voice shaking.

“You’re certain because you heard your master say so?” The elf clarified. 

“Yes,” Snaga nodded.  


The elf captain unsheathed his sword and moved several paces towards the cowering orc. Snaga backed away further into the corner. What had he done wrong? When the captain raised his sword and pressed the tip into his breast, Snaga thought that surely this was the execution he’d been waiting for.

“Do you swear, on everything that you hold dear, that everything you’ve told me is true?” There wasn’t anything that Snaga “held dear”, but he nodded his head and said “Yes, I swear it.” 

“Good then.” The elf sheathed his sword and turned to the Gondorian captain. 

“We’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”

And with that they both turned to leave. The Gondorian captain gave Snaga a glaring look before he shut the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a heady few days at the stronghold for the men and elvish soldiers as plans were made for the assault on Barad Mendolin. The Gondorian men swelled with patriotic fervor as they dreamed about taking back their stolen homeland. Thrandar and the Gondorian Captain Barothir spent long hours in the war room planning and strategizing. Their best spies, Aeründal, Illian, and Faenar, had been frequently sent out to survey the fortress and gather intelligence. 

Like everyone else, Elaenar was in a fair mood except for one complaint: he was sick of being on prisoner-duty. It was a chore that he hadn’t welcomed or had asked for. Bringing food and water to the prisoner was a duty that had fallen on Elaenar by default, and he resented it. He meant to sneak a private moment with his captain to address the matter, but that had proven difficult over the last few days with Thrandar being busily engaged in tactical planning. But Elaenar refused to wait any longer; he was going to address the issue with Thrandar even if his captain was busy and (most likely) didn’t want to be bothered with the issue.

He walked into the war room where captain Barothir, captain Thrandar, and the spies were gathered around a large table. The table was strewn with maps and diagrams. Elaenar waited impatiently as his captain gave instructions to Aeründal, Illian, and Faenar to scout for weaknesses along the wall. As soon as he could slip a word in edgewise, Elaenar addressed his captain.

“Captain Thrandar, what of the prisoner?” He asked.

“Take care of it.” His captain said curtly, still hunched over the table, not looking up at him. The terse reply made Elaenar reluctant to bother his captain any further. 

“Take care of it”...the meaning seemed obvious enough.

Elaenar turned and walked out of the room. He made his way to the prisoner’s cell and paused at the door. He envisioned how this was going to happen: he could blindfold the prisoner and march him outside of their walls, well into the woods, and dispose of the body there. He would pull the orc’s head back by his hair and slash his throat; a nice, quick kill. 

Elaenar’s gut churned. This was distasteful.

He turned from the cell door and walked away. He went outside their fortress walls and into the woods; he needed to get away and clear his head for a bit. Being alone in nature was soothing; sometimes Elaenar found that solitude was his best remedy.

Using what knowledge he had of the local flora and botany, he started to scavenge. It took him a long time of hunting and brushing through the undergrowth but he was able to fill his pouch with an assortment of noxious plants. He took his collection back with him to the mess hall; Luthian was there as well, sitting and smoking a pipe. Elaenar took his assortment of plants to a mortar and pestle to grind them into a paste. He added water to the mixture and poured it into a cup before sniffing it.

He gave up. This wasn’t enough to kill the prisoner. This was barely enough to get him sick. 

“Luthian?” Elaenar asked. He winced at the sound of his own voice; it was obvious just from his guilty tone that he was about to ask an unsavory favor from his friend.

“Mhh?” Luthian responded. 

Elaenar didn’t even turn around to look his friend in the eye.

“Would you please take the prisoner outside of our walls and dispatch him in the woods?” He asked; his tone was low and flat.

“No.” Luthian answered bluntly.

Elaenar half slammed the pestle down on the table.

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no. I won’t.” Luthian replied coolly. Elaenar’s bad temper started to emerge and he could feel the anger bubbling up inside of. 

“You’re the one who took the orc prisoner; _you _do it.” Luthian added tersely.__

____

__

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t have to do it, _because _I’m the one who took him prisoner!”__

____

__

“Oh, is that how you see it?” Luthian replied, eye-brow raised. It felt like a taunt. 

“Why so obstinate anyways?” Elaenar demanded to know. “It’s not as though it’s the first orc you ever killed.” He spat.

“Well then, if it’s no hard thing, why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Because it’s a bloody insult that you and our captain would relegate the dirty work to _me _for no other reason than that I was resourceful enough to procure for us a loose-tongued orc who gave us everything we wanted.” If Elaenar wasn’t angry before, he certainly was now.__

____

____

“You can thank _me _for our good fortune in that regard. I’m sick and tired of my service going unrecognized and unappreciated by you, our captain, or anyone else.” Elaenar was shouting by this point.  
__

__“Fine!” Luthian stood up and slammed the table._ _

____

____

“You resent your task? Then don’t do it. Take it up with our captain if you feel yourself so ill used, but don’t lay your bloody grievances on _me _as if I were to blame, because I didn’t task you with anything. Is it any wonder to you, Elaenar, that everyone thinks you’re an insolent, self-centered prick?”__

____

____

That last word wasn’t even uttered in elvish (there is no word for “prick” in elvish). Luthian stormed off and left Elaenar standing alone, smouldering. 

“Fine then.” He thought to himself. Ambiguous orders weren’t orders to be respected anyway. If his captain wanted something done, Thrandar would have to do him the dignity of giving him a clear directive. 

Elaenar sat down and thought for a moment. Was it really in their best interests to dispose of their prisoner now? Shouldn’t it be done after the assault? Suppose he (it?) could be of some use to them still? Either way, Elaenar took the route of no action. 

Later that day Thrandar stopped him in the hallway.

“Elaenar,” 

Elaenar turned around.

“Did you dispose of the prisoner yet?” His captain asked.

“No,” Elaenar answered, fully expecting to be reprimanded. 

“Good,” his captain answered. “I need you to question him. Come with me.”

Elaenar followed; relieved that he wasn’t in trouble for shirking orders.

The captain led him into the war room where various maps and layouts lay scattered over the large table. Thrandar pointed to a ground-layout of Barad Mendolin. The fortress hadn’t been held by Gondor for a generation; there was no man alive who had been there or remembered it. The secrets of the stronghold would have been lost to memory if not for a few Gondorian scholars who had discovered an old map of it in their archives. 

“There’s an escape tunnel that leads out of the fortress.” Thrandar said, pointing and tapping his finger on the old, withered parchment. 

“It was built into the fortress long ago in the event of a siege. It’s hidden just outside of the north tower. The tunnel is obscure and well-hidden. It’s unlikely that the orcs have found it or even know if it’s existence. When we descend on the fortress, I don’t want them escaping before we can wipe them out. It is crucial to us that we know whether or not the orcs are aware of the tunnel.” 

Thrandar said, turning his eyes away from the map to look Elaenar in the eye.

Elaenar nodded.

“I need you to ask our prisoner if he was ever stationed at Barad Mendolin. If yes, then ask him if the orcs know about the escape route. Be mindful not to tell him where it’s located; just ask him if they know that it exists. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes, Captain.” Elaenar replied. 

“Good.” His captain nodded.

Elaenar turned promptly to do as he was commanded. 

“Elaenar,” He heard his captain’s voice behind him and turned around. 

“Thank you.” Thrandar said. “Your service _is _appreciated.”__

____

____

Elaenar went away embarrassed. It _would _be like Luthian to talk about him behind his back.__


	9. Chapter 9

Snaga shot up, sitting erect when he heard the door open. It was the elf who had captured him. Snaga felt his heart fill with dread; the elf’s sword was drawn. 

“Come with me.” The elf ordered.

Snaga staggered to his feet (he hadn’t walked in days) and he was led at knife point down the hall to the same room where he had been tortured. 

“Sit.” The elf commanded, motioning to the same chair that Snaga had been strapped to before. 

Snaga, against his will, took a seat.

“I’ll tell you anything!” The orc sputtered, complying preemptively.

“Indeed you will.” The elf said menacingly, nodding. “Answer me this: were you ever stationed at Barad Mendolin, Lug-Gülguh as you orcs call it?

“Yes,” Snaga answered, trembling.

“And how long were you there for?”

Snaga gulped before answering. 

“Six months. I was there for six months before my master brought me with him from Lug-Gülguh to the camp where you attacked us.”

“So you were at Barad Mendolin for some time. Do you know it well?”

“Yes...”

“Is there an escape tunnel at Barad Mendolin?”

“No…” Snaga answered before correcting himself. “I don’t think so…” (He didn’t want to give the wrong answer lest he be tortured again).

“You’ve no knowledge of a tunnel in the fortress?” The elf pressed.

Snaga shook his head.

“Very well then.” To Snaga’s relief, the elf sheathed his sword and set it aside. 

“What’s your name, orc?” 

“I don’t have a name.” Snaga confessed timidly. “They call me snaga.”

“Snaga?” the elf scoffed. “That’s what they call you? Slave?”

Snaga gulped, choosing not to reply. He wondered how the elf knew what the word “snaga” meant.

“Alright then, Snaga, you may have been _their _slave but you’re _our _slave now. You serve me and every other man and elf in this company, and you will obey me in everything I say. Do you understand, Snaga?____

__

_____ _

____

“Yes, master.” Snaga murmured, looking down. There was a pause as the elf was surprised to have been met with immediate submission. 

“Well, you were certainly easy to break.” The elf sneered. “Pull your shirt down below your shoulders.”

Snaga looked up, confused and horrified, thinking he was going to be burnt with a hot iron again. 

“But I told you everyth-”

“I said pull your shirt down.” The elf commanded, more assertively this time. 

Snaga did as he was told, revealing the ugly, blistering burns on his shoulder. 

Elaenar motioned to the workbench, it had an assortment of supplies on it.

“Dress your own wounds, orc.”

Snaga looked at him stupidly, confused.

The elf, impatient, backed him up against the workbench and lifted him underneath his arms to sit on the table, tugging Snaga’s shirt down lower on his shoulders. Despite what he had said a moment ago, the elf started to attend to his prisoner’s burns. He rubbed some gel into the burnt skin; it made Snaga wince and whine in pain. 

“You should count yourself lucky, orc. This is nothing compared to what your kind does to prisoners, is it?  


Snaga didn’t answer. He didn’t feel very “lucky” at all right now.

The elf cut strips of gauze with a knife and dressed over the affected area while reminding Snaga about the many ways that orcs torture their prisoners. When he was done he gruffly instructed Snaga to hop off the table and pull his shirt back up. The elf turned around to grab his sword. 

Snaga’s eyes widened when he noticed that the elf had left the knife sitting on the table. In a flash, while the elf’s back was still turned, Snaga grabbed the knife and stuck it between his belt and his back. He quickly concealed the knife within the folds of his shirt; smoothing out his tunic just before the elf turned around, unaware of what the orc had just done. 

“Back to your quarters,” The elf commanded him, pointing at the door with his sword. Snaga was escorted back to his cell; sweating and heart pounding, terrified that the elf would see the knife he’d just stolen. 

Snaga was shoved into the empty cell and the door slammed behind him. He released several shaky, panicky breaths that he had been holding in. He could scarcely believe what he’d just done and that he hadn’t been caught. He pulled out the knife from behind his back and gripped it to his chest. It was small, only a few inches in length, but at least it was something. Now he could plot his escape.


	10. Chapter 10

Elaenar found Aeründal in the mess hall, which was a surprise to him because it was so late at night. The spies had just gotten back from their mission.

“How goes it, friend?” Elaenar said while taking a seat across from Aeründal.

“Well,” He answered cheerily, flashing him a grin.

“You look pleased with yourself.” Elaenar said. 

“Very, let me tell you about it,” Aeründal said, leaning in. He seemed excited. His voice took on a hush-hush tone, like he was telling Elaenar something gravely important. 

“Last night Illian and I discovered something at Barad Mendolin: a small, gated storm-drain. We sawed it open and crawled through. It’s just like the prisoner said; they have barely enough soldiers at the fortress; I’m surprised the orcs haven’t abandoned it entirely.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Elaenar commented. “Bold of you to get so close to them.” 

Aeründal shook his head. “Don’t worry about us, Elaenar. We weren’t caught, and that was the most dangerous mission yet.”

“All the same,” Elaenar said. “Be careful out there.”

“This will be an easy victory for us, I know it.” Aeründal said with a twinkle in his eye.

Elaenar smiled and nodded. 

“After we’ve taken Barad Mendolin,” Aeründal continued. “I’m going to put in a request to our Captain to take a leave of absence. I know it’s earlier than my time by a few months, but I’m hoping he’ll approve it. Last year I left early, I wasn’t home for even two months but Thrandar issued a letter calling for more volunteers. We were low on soldiers then; you remember that don’t you? So I came back to serve even though I had four months left before I was supposed to return. Do you think Captain Thrandar will approve my request?”

“I say we all deserve six months leave after we take Barad Mendolin.” Elaenar said. “Not least of all you, after all you and Illian and Faenar have done.” 

Aeründal nodded and smiled; he had a far-away look in his eye and Elaenar knew he was thinking about home.

“What about you? When do you get to take your leave?” Aeründal asked.

“About a month ago.” He answered. “I declined it; I decided to stay.”

Aeründal shook his head. “That’s twice now, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Elaenar admitted.

“Elaenar, when was the last time you went home?”

“Three years ago; the last time I took my leave I went to visit a cousin in Lothlorien.” 

“You haven’t seen your family in all that time?” Aeründal asked.

Elaenar shook his head no. 

“Do you write to them?”

“We write. Occasionally. They’re well, as far as I can gather.” 

Aeründal paused; his face was knitted into that concerned, empathetic look that Elaenar knew all too well. 

“You’re a good person, you know that Elaenar?”

Elaenar chuckled awkwardly, pretending not to understand. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Aeründal looked at him knowingly, and shook his head as if to say “I know that you know what I mean.” 

Aeründal was one of the few people in Elaenar’s life who knew about his divorce. It was a _de facto _divorce because there’s no such thing as divorce in elvish culture, there was no legal way to solidify it. He didn’t have to think about her anymore after she’d left the continent and sailed west, but the stigma followed him everywhere he went. Elves are supposed to be bound together for life. If one dies the widow/widower never remarries. It was a shameful thing to be separated in elvish culture; and Elaenar knew that his family looked down on him for it. That’s why he rarely went home, that’s why he served in the volunteer army, to get away. Elaenar’s past was a terrible burden and a shameful secret; which is why he never talked about it. But Aeründal was different; he was compassionate, he never judged anyone. He was one of the very few people who Elaenar trusted with his secrets, and there was no one in the world whom Elaenar had a higher opinion of.__

The awkward moment was broken when Faenar walked into the room carrying three mugs in his hands. 

“Care to help me celebrate something, Aeründal and Elaenar?” 

“Celebrate our soon-to-be victory?” Aeründal asked, confused.

“No, something even better.” Faenar said, sitting down and handing Elaenar one mug and Aeründal the other. 

He pulled out a letter from his breast pocket and handed it to Elaenar.

“Here, read this.” He said, beaming. 

Elaenar unfolded the letter and skimmed it. He broke into a smile and looked up from the letter to meet Faenar’s jubilant gaze.

“Congratulations, Faenar. This is wonderful.” He said.

“What is it? Let me see.” Aeründal said.

Elaenar handed the letter to his friend. “Faenar’s wife is pregnant.”

“Faenar!” Aeründal exclaimed, patting his friend on the back. “ I’m so happy for you!” It was no secret that Faenar and his wife had struggled to conceive, they had their first child five years ago, they weren’t sure if they’d ever have another. Faenar was an adoring father, he talked often and glowling about his only daughter.

“What will you name him, her?” 

“Eidril if it’s a girl, Gillidar if it’s a boy.”

“Here’s to you, Faenar.” Elaenar said, lifting his mug. “And you’re wife and child.”

They clinked glasses and drank in tandem. The cheery moment was short lived, interrupted when Luthian came storming into the mess hall.

“Elaenar!” Luthian shouted, running into the hall. 

Elaenar turned, startled. What the hell had he done now?

“Elaenar! What the hell is going on with the prisoner?”  


“What do you mean what’s going on with the prisoner?!” Elaenar shouted back, confused and alarmed.

“He’s banging on the door and it sounds like he has something in there. Quick, where’s the bloody key?”

“It’s with me, I have it here.”

“Well get up there and check on him, dammit! He’s got something in there, I swear it!”

Elaenar leapt from the table and dashed down the hall as fast as he could; heart pounding. Dammitall, what could that little imp possibly be doing? Whatever was going on this was _his _fault; since apparently it was _his _prisoner now. He rushed up to the prison cell and sure enough he could hear loud, repetitive banging.____

_____ _

____

Elaenar jammed the key into the lock, wriggled it around (the pounding on the door stopped immediately) and he flung the door wide open. The little orc was backing himself into the corner just as Elaenar swung the door open and stepped inside. Snaga had a terrified look in his yellow eyes; the look of someone who had just been caught red-handed. Elaenar looked around the room, confused. Then he looked at the door plate. It was dented as if some sharp object had been hacking away at it from the inside of the room. The dents were deep; fingernails couldn’t have made those marks.

In that instant Elaenar, ever quick-tempered, became furious. He looked the orc in the eye with deadly rage. 

“What are you hiding?” He seethed.

Snaga shook his head, shaking. “N-Nothing,” He said, his voice trembling. It was a pathetic and obvious lie.

“Turn around! Put your hands against the wall!” Elaenar barked. 

Snaga did as he was told and Elaenar patted him down, whipping the knife out from where it was concealed under his shirt. 

Elaenar’s blood boiled; how could he have have been so stupid? How had he let the little imp swipe a knife from right out under his nose?. He imagined what might have happened if the orc had gotten out, what if he’d killed someone? As the anxiety and anger started rising up inside of him, Elaenar lost his grip on himself. He was furious now.

“Is _this _nothing to you?” He growled holding the knife against Snaga’s throat.  
__

__Snaga whimpered and said nothing. Elaenar couldn’t let this slide; this was a serious offense. There had to be punishment. Elaenar yanked him back by his hair and pushed him down to his knees._ _

____

____

“Get on the ground!” He commanded. “Put your forehead on the floor.”

Snaga complied and lay down on his belly; both hands on either side of his head. Elaenar lifted the orc’s tunic over his thighs. He wasn’t sure what the appropriate punishment was for stealing and concealing a weapon but it was probably worse than fifteen lashes. When he was finished he put his belt back on and knelt down beside the orc. He grabbed Snaga by his hair, brandishing the knife in his face. 

“Don’t you _ever _steal anything again, do you understand?” Elaenar snarled. The orc whined but didn't answer.__

____

____

“If I _ever _catch you concealing a weapon from me ever again, I’ll give you far worse than fifteen lashes. Do you understand me, Snaga?”__

____

____

“Yes, master.” Snaga whimpered. 

Elaenar got up and stormed out of the room. As soon as he slammed the door behind himself he leaned his back against the wall and sunk to the floor. He buried his head in his hands; he took several deep breaths and let the emotions and the anger slowly drain out of him. 

What the hell had he just done? Elaenar had never beaten anyone before...he hadn’t even been whipped himself as a child. But he wasn’t sorry for it; what if the orc had gotten out and killed someone? As he got up off the floor, he grumbled to himself that they needed to somehow get rid of the little creature sooner than later.


	11. Chapter 11

It was true, elves can be just as cruel as orcs. That thrashing Snaga had received was just as severe as any that he had ever gotten from Zurgug. By the fifth lash he had been yelping and by the last one he had tears in his eyes. The back of his legs stung for days.

Snaga felt more hopeless than ever and the conditions of his cell were becoming unbearable. He was constantly in a state of discomfort on the hard, stone floor and the boredom was a kind of torture in-and-of itself. His prison cell had one small slit for a window so he could at least tell what time of day it was and determine how many days he had been sitting in this cell. 

He got up a few times a day to pace mindlessly around his small quarters. He stood up for the dual purpose of finding relief from the uncomfortable floor (there was no way to sit or lie down that didn’t hurt) and to stave off the boredom. It didn’t take very many days before Snaga felt that he was going to go mad. I thought about kicking over his mess bucket but he was afraid of coming under Elaenar’s wrath. The boredom was a source of constant agitation, like an itch, making him want to do absurd things like talk to himself, scream, or bang and kick on the door. Snaga has always been reclusive, staunchly antisocial. He had never been keen to chat with others (he hardly even spoke to Grishnak). Snaga had always been content to be alone, but this was too much. He was sure that he was going to go insane. 

The constant question that was on his mind was _“why are they keeping me alive?” _. He couldn’t make sense of it; what were they waiting for? What was the purpose of holding him prisoner? He was too shy and afraid to ask; every time that his door was opened and Elaenar brought the orc's daily food he couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything. In his lonely solitude Snaga’s mind swirled with thoughts and worries. He remembered what Zurgug had said about elves eating orcs. Snaga always thought that was nonsense; why would elves do that? But now, in his paranoid state, slinking further into boredom-induced madness, it didn’t seem so unbelievable a thing.__

__Nightmarish images flashed through his mind of his body being chopped up, gutted, butchered and consumed. The rational part of him found it difficult to imagine that elves eat orcs; it didn’t make any sense. But the rational part of him was growing smaller and smaller every day._ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note from the author: I hope you will bear with me since this chapter may not be the most exciting. Nonetheless, I feel it is an important chapter for developing my character. Hope that you will stay tuned; the story will be picking up it's pace shortly. Please note that this chapter was inspired by Tolkien's Essay "Laws and Customs Of the Eldar" (Eldar meaning elves) as well as other texts taken from J.R.R.'s Silmarillion.  
> Thanks as always for reading

Elaenar made his way to the armory in a huff. He and Luthian had just gotten into a fight over something stupid and now he was in a sour mood. Being in the army made him feel sick of people sometimes; he needed to be alone. Elaenar decided to take a reprieve from life in the barracks and go hunting. He strapped his bow and quiver to his back and took off without bothering to tell anyone where he was going.

It was a beautiful September day, the last few of it’s kind before the chill of winter set in. Elaenar mused to himself that he often preferred the company of trees to that of people. He trekked several miles deep into untamed wilderness; interesting to think that it hadn’t always been this way. Not long ago this had been settled territory, replete with farms, hamlets, boroughs, streets and highways. Every now and then Elaenar would walk past the crumbling edifice of a wall and other archeological hints that this place had looked quite different some hundred odd years ago. 

His sharp elvish vision allowed him to see deep into the woods. He was amused to spot red foxes darting out of his path, black squirrels chattering and peering at him from behind the trees, a racoon that he just barely glimpsed before it darted back into its hole. Like any elf, his hearing was also superb. He could hear the chirpy songs of birds from miles away, and he could name every bird just by listening to its chatter. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see any deer, except for a mother doe and her baby; and he certainly was going to shoot her. 

Instead Elaenar watched them; he stood there smiling and charmed by their gentle, skittish nature. The sweet moment was short lived; when she spotted him her tail stood on end and the mother doe and baby fawn bounded deeper into the woods and out of sight. 

So much for hunting. But it was fine by him; Elaenar didn’t need to hunt; he just needed to be alone for a while. Judging that he had probably wandered far enough and he shouldn’t go any further, he decided to sit down on a rock and “smoke”. He didn’t pull out of his pocket that elegant carved pipe of his or his elvish tobacco. He whipped out a blunt from his pouch; as long as he was alone he might as well take advantage of this moment. 

He took a long drag and exhaled deeply. It was nice to have a moment alone to de-stress. And yet as he sat there in the wood he began to feel a pang in his heart as he became in-touch with just how intensely lonely he felt sometimes. Maybe it was his own fault for being so prickly in nature; his sharp tongue got him into trouble all the time. And yet he couldn’t help himself; that’s just who he was. 

He thought about what Aeründal had said to him, about being a good person. _“I wish my own family thought so.” _He muttered bitterly to himself. Truthfully he had always felt like the black sheep in his family, even when he was little. Being raised by cold and distant parents, Elaenar had discovered from an early age that the only way to get any attention was to behave badly. Out of his three brothers and two sisters, he was the only one who didn’t kowtow to his austere and disapproving father.__

__Elaenar had already been a difficult child, but it only got worse when he reached adolescence. After a lifetime of being constantly chastised, admonished, reprimanded and criticized from his ever-disapproving father, Elaenar was a frustrated and rebellious youth. By the time he was a young man he was considered “wild”; in short, he was promiscuous. And it wasn’t a hard thing to be considered promiscuous among elves. As he had grown into adulthood, Elaenar had come into a keen sense of self-awareness. It was no secret to him (or anyone else) that he was unusually handsome. Leveraging his own beauty was one of the few things that made Elaenar feel good about himself. It was easy to make people smitten with him, and he did it often to stroke his own vanity. Even though he was still a virgin, his behavior deeply alarmed his mother and father. In a culture where one’s reputation can never be in question, Elaenar’s conduct was unacceptable._ _

__All this was bad enough, but then Elaenar went and did the unthinkable: he fell in love with someone that he couldn’t have. Lillienel was her name, she was the first love of his life, he was madly in love with her, but there was one problem. She was already married. Or more accurately, she had already _been _married. She was a widow; her husband was a soldier who had died a hero’s death in the Battle of Imladris. Elves aren’t supposed to remarry when their husband (or wife) dies. Elves are supposed to be faithful to their marital vows in life _and _in death. In everyone else’s eyes, Lillienel was still married, which meant that Elaenar was coveting another man’s wife (nevermind the fact that her husband was _three hundred _years dead). The fact that her late husband was a venerated war hero made it all the more disgraceful that she and Elaenar were consorting with each other. In Elaenar’s opinion, this was ridiculous and maddeningly unfair. But to everyone else, it was infidelity. And to her deceased husband’s family, it was a grave insult to their late son._______ _

___Elaenar could still remember his father’s patronizing counsel, admonishing him to give up the feelings he had for the woman that he desired, cautioning his son against pursuing the wife of a deceased man [elf]. His father had sternly warned Elaenar that marrying a widow would bring disgrace, not only on himself, but on his entire family, and pleaded with him to find virtue in the love for, and commitment to, a virtuous woman who could help Elaenar restore his honor._ _ _

___At the time (and only after immense pressure from his family and from society at large) Elaenar had taken his father’s counsel to heart. In the end, Elaenar did get married to someone else; she was the kind of pure and stainless woman that his mother and father had wanted for their son. In his naivety, Elaenar thought that marriage would make him grow into the part of an honorable, faithful husband and ultimately the man [elf] that his father had wanted him to be. And if not marriage, then surely fatherhood would transform him into the person that he aspired to be. But instead Elaenar found himself deeply discontent, and after many years of an unhappy, childless marriage it only served to bring out the worst in him._ _ _

___Elaenar couldn’t surrender the feelings he had for Lillienel. They carried on their affair for years; at their lowest they had actually consummated their love for each other. Such infidelity was practically unheard of in the world of elvish affairs. It was a blistering scandal. His wife divorced him in the only way that elves can: to leave him and never speak to him again. She sailed west and Elaenar promised never to follow. To this day Elaenar still felt horrible for what he had done to the woman he married; but he had been desperately unhappy._ _ _

___Things didn’t get easier for them after Elaenar’s marriage ended. They wanted to abscond to Rivendell together but their plans were thwarted. Lillienel’s late husband’s vindictive family, feeling slighted by their union, sent a letter to the crown before they could relocate. Elaenar and Lillienel were forbidden from entering Rivendell together in a royal ordinance that was particularly aimed at Elaenar since he still had a living wife. He could still remember the shame and fury he’d felt when he was presented with, and read, the royal edict (signed by Lord Elrond himself). He could still recall, with pain, portions of the letter:_ _ _

___“...This city shall not tolerate you to dishonor the memory of our fallen soldier by your unlawful union, nor shall you be permitted to take up residence here for the purpose of living out your adultery whilst you have a living wife...”_ _ _

___Elaenar suggested that they go live among the mortal people, but Lillienel wouldn’t consent to it. The weight of being shunned by their families (and all of society) eventually broke them. It was all too much for her; the stigma, the shame, the prospect of being ostracized forever. Elaenar was willing to give up everything and live among men for her; but she wouldn’t do the same for him. This of course made him feel deeply betrayed; Elaenar judged that his loyalty for Lillienel was greater than hers was for him. Fighting ensued, Elaenar lashed out, and soon they were less in love than when they hadn’t been together. After a long struggle they separated. When it all fell apart the affair had left Elaenar a jaded, bitter person. ____ _

___It had been the worst time in Elaenar’s life; his hatred for society was at its peak. He went into self-imposed exile and took up residence in Dale, a city inhabited by mortal men. Elaenar lived there for a long time as a craftsmith; elves can make a lot of money plying their trade among men since they are far more skilled and talented. Here Elaenar broke yet another elvish taboo, since accumulating personal wealth is frowned upon among elves. ____ _

___That had been a wild time in Elaenar’s life; he was constantly fighting retaliation from the guilds that tried to banish elvish competition from their city. He had suffered attacks on his person and on his trade; at times he had to subvert the law just to continue working in Dale. ____ _

___Elaenar became heavily involved with the underbelly of the city. In Dale he discovered that there was far more than just alcohol to numb one’s pain; he was introduced to a whole world of new substances: uppers, downers, tranquilizers, opiates, hallucinogens. His drug habit was one thing that Elaenar hadn’t left behind from living in Dale (his foul language was another bad habit from his time there; he had picked up quite a few un-elvish cuss words while living in the city). At his most debauched he even had affairs with mortal women and half elves. But in the end, the hedonism left Elaenar depressed, broken, and desperate for meaning in his life. ____ _

___That’s when he had decided to join the army. He received the shocking news about the fall of Minas Ithil when he was living in Dale. Gondor’s northern fiefdom had been under increasing assault for many years; but this was the final blow that threatened to subdue the entire region of Ithilien. The world was awoken from its apathy; many elves enlisted in the volunteer army after Minas Ithil fell to the orcs. Elvish kings formed entire regiments to aid Gondor in their war against Sauron’s forces._ _ _

___Being a soldier in the army was the one thing that made Elaenar feel good about himself. His service in the army gave him a purpose in life; he was proud to be a long-time soldier (not to mention, killing orcs was cathartic for his angry, embittered soul). In some regard, he had found redemption by serving in the volunteer army._ _ _

___But perhaps even more importantly, in the army Elaenar had finally found the deep, profound human connection he’d always been longing for. He found a true family in his brothers-in-arms that he had never felt with his own flesh-and-blood; especially in people like Aeründal. There are few things in this world deeper than the bonds formed among soldiers who fight and die beside each other. The same was true for Luthian; although they faught frequently, Elaenar knew that either of them would die for each other without hesitation. And although he sometimes brushed shoulders with his captain, Elaenar still looked up to Thrandar as a father figure. His Captain recognized him for, and appreciated, his service in the army. It was the kind of recognition Elaenar could only dream of receiving from his own father._ _ _

___The blunt that Elaeanr had between his fingers was getting smaller and shorter with each puff. He didn’t want to return to the barracks, but he knew it wasn’t good to be AWOL for too long. He tossed the remainder of the blunt to the earth and stamped it underneath his foot._ _ _

___When he returned it was half past five. He decided to whittle away the evening smoking a pipe and drinking a mug of beer. Captain Thrandar found him sitting in the common area, reclined with his feet propped up on a table._ _ _

___“Where have you been?” His commander asked; he sounded agitated._ _ _

___“Hunting.” The disrespectful soldier replied nonchalantly (the consequence of being a bit high and slightly drunk)._ _ _

___“You shouldn’t have taken leave without telling someone where you were going; and get your feet off the table when being spoken to by your Captain.”_ _ _

___Eleanar promptly did as he was told (oh, how he hated being spoken to that way)._ _ _

___“And don’t go hunting alone by yourself anymore. There were orcs spotted a few miles southwest of here. It isn’t safe.” His Captain finished before promptly walking away._ _ _

___Elaeanar cussed under his breath. Wonderful, just wonderful; now his one reprieve from life in the barracks had been taken away from him. With this new order from his Captain, Elaenar was returned to the sour mood that he had started out with._ _ _


	13. Chapter 13

It was late at night but Elaenar couldn’t sleep, so instead he got up and went to the common area. There was a fire dwindling in the fireplace, just enough light to write a letter. He stared blankly at the parchment with a quill in his hand. Elaenar never knew what to say in these letters; military life was usually so boring and uneventful. But he hadn’t written a letter home in a long time and he needed to write. He supposed that he could tell his family about the recent events; wiping out the orc camp and the impending siege at Barad Mendolin. He omitted any mention of the orc prisoner, although he almost included that in his letter too.

In his typical fashion he wrote a stiffly-worded letter about new developments on the front, advised that he was in good health, inquired about how his mother, father, brothers and sisters were doing, asked if they were in good health, etc. When he was finished writing his letter he read it over twice, wincing at the dry language of his own writing style, before folding it up and sealing it in an envelope. Writing letters back home was just a chore to get over and be done with. 

He whipped out a pipe and started to smoke absent-mindedly while he sat staring at the flickering light of the fire. It pained him to write to his mother and father; he knew they were ashamed of him...and he resented that. All these years he had fought in volunteer forces, risking his life in battle for a greater good. He didn’t have to serve; it wasn’t required of elves to serve in the army when their country wasn’t at war, he hadn’t been conscripted. But no amount of years spent selflessly fighting in the volunteer army would make them proud of him. His failed marriage was an indelible blotch on his character in his mother and father’s eyes. It was the scarlet letter on his chest. 

Elaenar sat dwelling on all of these unhappy thoughts when Luthian surprised him by running into the commons. 

“Elaenar, come quickly! It’s Illian!” He said before dashing out towards the courtyard. 

Elaenar shouted “what’s wrong?” but Luthian had already taken off. Elaenar jumped up and followed him out to the main court. 

In the darkness he could see a hobbling figure supported by one of the Gondorian guards who was assisting him, helping him walk. Elaenar’s heart started pounding and he ran closer. It was Illian, he looked badly bruised and he had two horrible, bleeding cuts on both cheeks. 

“Illian!” He screamed. “What happened?” Elaenar rushed over to his friend.

“They took them.” Illian sobbed. “Faenar and Aeründal. We were captured by the orcs. They cut my face and let me go.” At this Illian fell to the ground on his knees and started sobbing.

Elaenar fell to his knees too and grabbed Illian’s hands. 

“Illian, please, what happened to them? Where are Aeründal and Faenar?”

“They’ve been taken, Elaenar. They only let me go so that I could deliver the message. I’m so sorry.” Illian closed in on himself and started sobbing. 

“What message? Illian?” Luthian said, grabbing his friend by his shoulders and helping him up. He wrapped one of Illian’s arms around his shoulder and the Gondorian guard took the wounded elf’s other arm. 

“Come, let’s get you inside.” 

Still crying, Illian continued: “Luthian, they’re holding Aerudnal and Faenar hostage. They said that if we attack they’ll torture and kill them both.” 

Elaenar thought he was going to be sick. They’d been captured; it was his worst nightmare. He felt as if time had stopped and he was trapped in this one moment of agonizing horror. 

_“No, no. Please God, no, don’t let this be.” _He thought to himself.__

____

____

“Luthian, Elaenar, I’m so sorry.” Illian sobbed.

“What’s he saying? What’s going on?” The Gondorian asked (they had been speaking in their own language up to this point).

“They’ve been taken!” Elaenar screamed. He didn’t know why he was lashing out, it wasn’t the man’s fault.

“The orcs took Aeründal and Faenar and now they’re going to fucking die!” 

“Elaenar!” Luthian shouted (it was extremely un-elvish to say that foul word).

“Stop it!” Luthian shouted to him. “Get a hold of yourself!” 

“They’ll never come back alive, you know it!” Elaenar screamed at his friend. Luthian let go of Illian for a moment and grabbed Elaenar by the shoulders. 

“Stop it, enough! This isn’t about you.” Luthian said, shaking him.

“Now listen, go wake up Thrandar. Tell him to get Captain Barothir. They need to know immediately.”

Elaenar pulled himself together. Luthian was right; now wasn’t the time to be a nervous wreck. He ran as fast as he could to his Captain’s quarters and frantically told him the news.

Barothir, Thrandar, Luthian and Elaenar sat around a table, gathered around Illian. Elaenar had his head in his hands, staring down at the table, devastated. Luthian sat next to Illian, dabbing his face with a cloth, trying to stop the bleeding. His other hand was gently comforting Illian on his back; he was crying softly.

“They said that if we attack the fortress they’ll kill Faenar and Aeründal.” Illian whimpred. “They said they’ll torture them first and hang their bodies on the ramparts for us to see.”

“Are they alright? Are they hurt?” Luthian asked.

Illian sniffled. “Aeründal was cut badly on his shoulder. Faenar is fine. They said that if we stay away they will release the prisoners after Barad Mendolin is reinforced with more soldiers.”

“That’s a lie.” Elaenar growled, without looking up from the table. 

Thrandar shushed him and Luthian shot him an angry look.

The elvish captain spoke up: “Can we rescue them?” He asked.

“I don’t think so,” Illian said, tears rolling down his face onto the ugly cuts on his cheeks. "They know we’ll try to save our friends. They said they’ve locked Faenar and Aeründal in the prison cells with guards who will be on watch at all hours." 

Elaenar buried his face in his hands; it took everything in him to keep from screaming.

“What are we going to do?” Luthian murmured. 

The elvish captain didn’t answer. He just shook his head. After a long pause he said:

“We’ll have to negotiate with the orcs.”

“You can’t!” Illian exclaimed, alarmed.

“We’ll surround their walls,” Thrandar continued. “They’ll see our numbers and when they do, the orcs will realize that they don’t have the upper hand. We’ll swear an oath to them that if they give us back our elves we’ll let them live if they…”

“No!” Illian shouted. Elaenar looked up.

“You can't!”

“Why not?” Thrandar asked.

“Because they forbid it! They forbid us from negotiating with them. The orcs said that if we try to bargain for our friends’ lives they’ll take one of the prisoners and decapitate him as punishment for breaching their terms.” 

Elaenar put his head in his hand and with the other hand clasped his mouth. A few silent tears streamed down his face. Horrific images flashed through his mind of Aeründal’s mutilated body mounted on a stake. Elaenar knew what happened to elves who were captured by orcs; there wasn’t a single recorded incident in history where an elf who was taken prisoner by orcs was allowed to live and released. There was no such thing as a good-faith trade among orcs. He thought about other elves who had been captured by orcs, like Gelmir, who had his eyes gouged out and his limbs cut off, and Celebrimbor who’s body had been run through with a stake and hoisted like a banner. 

Elaenar couldn’t bear to think that the kindest, most wonderful person he knew was going to die slowly and painfully at the hands of those sadistic monsters. And Faenar, his wife was pregnant and he had a daughter at home. Elaenar wanted to die. For a brief moment Elaenar thought to himself that if his two friends were tortured to death it would be too much for him and he would surely kill himself. 

Consumed by all of these horrible, dark thoughts swirling around in his mind, still staring down at the table and letting silent tears roll down his eyes, Elaenar barely noticed when Luthian spoke up, saying:

“What are we going to do about the siege?”

Thrandar sighed but said nothing. 

“Captain Thrandar,” Barothir spoke up tentatively. 

“We cannot let them manipulate us so as to prevent the attack. These lying orcs are trying to stall our siege with false promises. We are a hair’s breadth away from our greatest victory yet, we _must not _abort the siege.”__

___“You selfish son of a bitch.” _Elaenar hissed, looking up, bleary eyed. He looked Captain Barothir dead in the eye with an ugly malice that spoke to the hatred that Elaenar felt for the Gondorian man in that moment.___ _

___“Elaenar!” His captain scolded him._ _ _

___“Not a thousand Barad Mendolins are worth Aeründal and Faenar’s life. You don’t care about them because it’s not your men or your friends who were taken. It’s a small price for you to pay isn’t it? A little elvish blood, wrenched from the screaming and dying, to get back your fortress means nothing to you. Isn’t that right?”_ _ _

___“Silence!” Thrandar thundared, standing. “Dismiss yourself from this counsel at once.” He commanded._ _ _

___Elaenar stormed out of the room without a trace of remorse for his incorrigible behavior. He made his way to the barracks, their sleeping quarters, but he couldn’t go inside. He collapsed outside the door with his back to the wall and sobbed. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to fall asleep tonight...actually he did. Tonight he would have to knock himself out cold with one of those illicit drugs he kept hidden under his bed. In short time Luthian found him there in the hallway. Luthian, saying nothing, sunk to the ground and sat next to Elaenar. He had tears in his eyes too._ _ _

___“They’ll never come back alive.” Elaenar said through his tears._ _ _

___“Don’t say that.” Luthian whispered._ _ _

___"You _know _it's true, Luthian." He ruefully countered._____

___“Either we stand back until the reinforcements arrive, then the orcs will celebrate their victory with Aeründal and Faenar’s blood. They’ll taunt us by putting their heads on spikes. You know they will, Luthian. Or we can attack and the orcs will murder our friends just the same. Don’t you see Luthian? We’re damned if we do and we’re damned if we don’t.”___

___Luthian sighed. “Captain Barothir and Captain Thrandar are planning a rescue mission. They said they’ll do everything they can to get them back.”_ _ _

___“I doubt it,” Elaenar said bitterly. “I don’t trust that Barothir cares much about our comrades when his precious fortress is at stake. Aeründal and Faenar are nothing but an inconvenience to him now. Didn’t you hear what he said? They’re nothing but obstacles standing in the way of a Gondorian victory.”_ _ _

___“You shouldn’t have spoken that way to a captain.” Luthian chastised him. “It won’t do you any good in getting our friends back.”_ _ _

___Elaenar snorted. “Barothir can go to hel-”._ _ _

___“Enough.” Luthian said gently but firmly. “Please Elaenar, get your foul tongue under control. Come, we need to go to bed.” He said, standing up and offering a hand out to Elaenar to lift him up._ _ _

___Elaenar and Luthian went to bed with broken hearts that night. Elaenar guessed that Luthian didn’t sleep much; probably tossed and turned all night. Elaenar knew for a certainty he wouldn’t have slept at all if it hadn’t been for the “medicine” he kept hidden under his bed. He felt tempted to offer some to Luthian but decided against it out of fear that he would get in trouble. He fell into a deep, drugged sleep where he hoped the nightmares couldn’t follow him_ _ _


End file.
